


Happy Father's Day

by Bopdawoo



Series: Smash Bros: World of Oneshots [3]
Category: Super Smash Brothers, Xenoblade Chronicles
Genre: Don't copy to another site, Gen, hi hello this has MAJOR xenoblade spoilers, if you haven't finished the first game turn back now, love it when characters help each other work through their trauma, palutena is a Mom(TM), that's the good character development
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:42:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24832552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bopdawoo/pseuds/Bopdawoo
Summary: Holidays celebrating the parents in one's life can be hard for those whose parents aren't there anymore. One such day hits particularly hard for one Smasher. MAJOR SPOILERS for Xenoblade Chronicles 1; seriously if you haven't finished the first Xenoblade Chronicles in its entirety turn back now.
Relationships: Palutena (Kid Icarus) & Shulk (Xenoblade Chronicles)
Series: Smash Bros: World of Oneshots [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1755418
Comments: 7
Kudos: 39





	Happy Father's Day

**Author's Note:**

> Characters: Shulk, Lady Palutena  
> Rating: T (mentions of past violence and death, trauma)  
> Genre: angst, hurt/comfort, friendship  
> Wordcount: ~3,000

Lady Palutena glances at the nametags on each door as she walks down the dorm hallway, looking for the particular one she needs. She’s never visited his room before; she’s never actually spoken more than ten sentences to him.

She tried to be friendly. At first, at least. But Shulk is… not a very social person. It seemed as though, at times, he even went out of his way to avoid interacting with her. He was friendly enough with Pit at least, but she figures that’s just because Pit is a social butterfly with no boundaries, and Shulk has given up trying to shoo her angel away. Normally she wouldn’t be one to seek him out when he’s made it so clear that he enjoys his personal space, however today’s a little different.

All of the universes that have come together for the Smash tournaments are all different, some more than others. It’s no surprise that common experiences in one universe may be completely unheard of in others. Holidays, for example. The Goddess of Light had never heard of ‘Christmas’ or ‘Ramadan’ before meeting Little Mac, a martial artist hailing from a land called ‘The Bronx In New York’. Those holidays were specific to stories and experiences from their respective religions. More common experiences, like harvest seasons and life milestones, tended to have similar celebrations across universes.

One such experience: parenthood. Fatherhood, on this particular day. In Little Mac’s universe apparently today is a minor holiday celebrating and honoring fathers. That’s well enough if one still has a father, but life isn’t always easy. For beings as fragile as mortals, having a family is a privilege, and not everybody in the mansion has that privilege.

The Goddess bore witness to an interaction in the kitchen, earlier, between Shulk and Little Mac. An offhand comment, a curious question, and the boxer was explaining the concept of Father’s Day to Shulk. Judging from his reactions, his home universe didn’t have an equivalent holiday, nor did Shulk have an equivalent figure in his life. He had only remained in the kitchen for several more minutes, looking increasingly more uncomfortable, before he quietly ghosted out.

Call it a Goddess’ intuition, but Lady Palutena felt she should check on him. Resilient as they can be, mortals are scarily fragile and she just… wants to make sure he’s okay, is all.

She’s glad she came up this way, because even though the dorm doors are fairly good at blocking noise she can hear what could only be someone trying to muffle their own crying up ahead. A sympathetic wince settles on her features as she finds the source: the door with the little gilded Monado symbol over its nameplate.

She raises a hand to knock and stops herself. Is this a good idea? Can she even do anything to help when she barely knows him?

She listens to his muffled cries for a moment and her thoughts drift back a long ways, to when Pit was barely older than a fledgeling. Freshly escaped from the Underworld’s clutches, the only survivor of Medusa’s attack on Skyworld. Young, and scared, and alone. She knew nothing of him then and she still reached out, and look how far he’s come since then. Is Shulk feeling the same way Pit did all those years ago? Perhaps she can do some good for him as well.

Gently, with one knuckle, she taps on his door, and from the other side hears him hiccup on the sob he’d been letting out, trying to stifle it. No backing out now.

She inhales. “Shulk? It’s Palutena,” she calls softly. “Are you okay?” Standard, dumb question. Who is okay when they’re sobbing behind a closed door?

She hears him stumble over a few words at first, and it takes a few seconds for a coherent sentence to form. “I-I’m just… I…” A moment passes before she hears, “Please l-leave.”

Her lips press into a thin line and she sighs. “I will if you want, but I’m just worried about you. I overheard you in the kitchen with Little Mac earlier, and I just…” She breaks off with a soft sigh. These things are never easy. She settles on, “If there’s something I can do to help, you can talk to me at any time, okay?”

From behind the closed door he sniffles. “I, uh, o-okay.”

When there’s no further response from him she says, “I’m gonna leave now, alright?” and steps away from the door. It takes some effort to actually walk away from it, but she makes it a good few steps before she hears the quiet jiggle of a door handle and she turns back around. Shulk’s just barely peeking out of his opened door, almost like he’s hiding behind it. His nose and cheeks are reddened, eyes watery and wide with this strange ‘deer in the headlights’ sort of look to them.

He can’t quite meet her eyes, and he ducks his head as he stutters. “I, uh, y-you… I’m not… okay,” he manages. “Not okay.”

The Goddess takes a hopeful half step forwards. “Do you need someone to talk to?”

“... I dunno, I just… I don’t know.”

Palutena bites her lip, and after a moment says, “Sometimes if Pit gets upset like this, and he doesn’t know if he’s ready to talk, he’ll ask me to stay with him. Not to talk, just for the company until he feels a bit better.”

Shulk shifts a little, looking unsure, and then asks, “Pit’s kind of… like your kid, right?”

The mention of Pit brings the slightest smile on her lips. “Deities don’t typically have children, but yes, he’s very much like a son to me.”

Shulk nods, and is quiet for a few moments looking to be debating something in his head. Finally his eyes flick up to hers for the briefest moment and he asks, “Can you s-stay? For a bit?”

Palutena gives him a gentle smile and says, “Of course,” and for the first time she enters his room. She takes a quick glance around, at the desk covered in papers and scraps of metal and the walls plastered with blueprints, and then to Shulk as he sinks down next to a beanbag chair, back to the wall.

“Tell me about anything,” he asks, and hugs his knees,

“You need a distraction,” she says, to which he nods. She sits by him, not close but not too far, and she just talks. Arbitrary things: the first time she and Pit baked together, the last few Smash matches she was in, the tea party she had with Peach and Byleth a few days ago, the nine categories of weapons she created for Pit’s use. This last topic seems to perk him up just a touch; she watches a little glimmer of interest growing in his eyes as she talks about how she outfitted each weapon class to have both melee and ranged abilities. Another glance around his room, and she comes upon the realization that many of the blueprints he has hung up are for weapon designs.

“Do you have an interest in weaponry?” she chances. He hasn’t spoken a single word this whole time.

A few seconds of silence pass, but he answers, “Yeah. I build them to defend my home.”

“Really? Is this something you taught yourself to do?”

“... My father taught me.”

Oh. Shit. “Sorry,” she says.

“S’okay,” he mumbles. His eyes are downcast again and she worries she may have botched this until he lets out a long sigh and says, “His name was Dickson.” He speaks slowly, softly, and she listens. “He… My parents died when I was four. I don’t remember them much. They… There was a blizzard. They’d gone up into a mountain range with their research team, searching for the Monado, and… I was the only survivor. Dickson found me a-and took me in. He… He taught me everything I know, about mechanics, about fixing stuff. I loved him. I trusted him. And I miss him. But…”

Shulk trails off, and buries his face in his knees and says nothing further.

After a moment, Palutena reaches out and gently lays a hand on his arm. He’s cold and very tense, so she rubs her thumb in little circles. “It’s okay to hurt,” she tells him. “Everything you’re feeling right now, that’s all okay.”

He takes a few breaths, and his voice is heavy when he admits, “I don’t know if I  _ should _ miss him.”

This one little admission gives her pause, and the Goddess frowns. He’s trembling a little now. “Shulk, what do you mean by-”

“I trusted him,” he squeaks, and hugs his knees tighter. “I  _ trusted _ h-him and he-”

“Shulk,” she says, gently. “Did Dickson hurt you?”

He flinches, and it’s all the answer she needs. Mortals are fragile, like delicate glasswork. She’s found where he’s cracked. She continues rubbing little circles into the fabric of his sweater sleeve and says, “I’m sorry for prying. You don’t have to tell me anything else if it’s too upsetting.”

Shulk takes a deep, steady breath, and lifts his face from his knees. His eyes are watery again, but his gaze is clear. “I think I  _ need _ to talk about it.”

Palutena is the goddess the humans pray to when things go wrong. She’s listened to more prayers, more confessions that she’ll ever be able to count.

“Then talk,” she tells him. “I will listen as long as you need.”

Shulk looks into her eyes, and nods. And with a deep breath, he talks.

“Dickson devoted himself to… to a cruel god. Zanza. He was trapped, inside the Monado up in those mountains. Dickson was waiting for someone to find it and release his god. No one realized it at the time. I just… I remember this bright light, and then everything went dark, and then I woke up and Dickson was carrying me down the mountain. He… He helped me, took care of me, did  _ everything _ a father’s supposed to do… but only because I freed his god.”

Palutena nods, but something isn’t adding up. She asks, “Why didn’t Dickson just free Zanza himself, if he was so devoted?”

Shulk explains quietly. “Zanza was weak, after being trapped for so long. He needed to recover h-his power.” The boy shudders. “He needed a vessel.”

Ice slithers up the Goddess’ spine as she takes in the implications. “ _ You _ were the vessel,” she deduces. “That’s why you were the only survivor.”

He nods, and fresh tears begin to slide down his cheeks. “I didn’t know,” he whimpers. “I ne- _ never _ knew. But Zanza was there the whole time, leaching off me like a f-fucking  _ parasite  _ until Di-”

Shulk breaks off with a sob so sudden that she flinches. He buries his face as his cries begin anew, and the Goddess can’t help moving herself closer. She wants to support him, comfort him, but after so much time avoiding her she’s wary of his boundaries. Still, she lays a gentle arm over his shoulders, and is relieved when he leans into her touch instead of pulling away.

“I’m so sorry,” she says, “for everything Dickson and Zanza put you through.” At least now she understands  _ why _ he avoided her for so long: all this trauma centers around a God. She’s a Goddess. Of _course_ he’s been avoiding her.

The boy cries and slumps into her side, she fully pulls him into an embrace and rubs slow circles over his back. He hiccups and blubbers something, and Palutena coaxes him into some slower breaths so he can speak. Shulk grips the front of his sweater like a lifeline, and he gasps out, “He sh- Dicks-son sh- _ shot me-” _

And Palutena feels herself freeze in place. She can barely find her voice to breathe, “He  _ shot you?” _

Shulk nods and sobs again. “To ge-get Zanza out of me,” he chokes. One hand releases his shirt and rests shakily over his heart, and a rueful smile touches his lips for a moment. ”A-At least he got m-me in the back, that way I didn’t h-have to… Never even s-saw it coming.” And with that he breaks all over again.

She’s familiar with this sort of story, the Goddess realizes. The sacrificial lamb raised for slaughter, told time and time again in religious texts, but never from the lamb’s point of view. The lamb, after all, isn’t meant to survive.

Palutena wonders how he managed that.

But she knows enough now, and he’s spoken enough, so she holds him close and lets him cry, to gentle shushes and murmured comforts.

It does take a while, but Shulk does cry himself out eventually. To her surprise he remains pressed up against her side, breathing finally slow and deep and not punctuated by hitching cries anymore. It would be easy to assume he’s fallen asleep, but she has a feeling that’s not the case.

She’s proven right when she almost misses it, the quietest mumble from him: “You’re nicer than Zanza,” is what he says. And before she can respond he follows it with, “I’m sorry.”

“Whatever for?”

“... I thought you’d be like Zanza, when I met you. So I avoided you. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize, Shulk,” she comforts. “You were only trying to keep yourself safe.”

His breath shudders, if only slightly, but it evens out once more. Finally he tells her, “Thank you. For being here, and for listening.” He fiddles with the hem of his sleeve before admitting, “I’ve never really talked to anyone about this.”

She frowns. “Not even your friends?”

“I didn’t want to make them relive all that,” he explains. “They were there for it all.”

Lady Palutena hums softly. “I think you should consider talking to them, too. Bottling all this up can’t be good for you. And you said they were all there as well, they’ll understand what you went through better than I.” At this point he nods a little. “But,” she continues, “I’ll be here for you now, too.”

Shulk gives her another little nod and stills against her. Then suddenly he curses. “I’m supposed to be in a match soon, what time is it?”

“Maybe you should sit this one out,” she suggests.

“Why?” he asks.

Palutena looks at his reddened eyes and the tear tracks down his cheeks and retorts, “Do you  _ really _ feel ready to fight right now?”

He heaves a sigh. “No, but I dunno how I’ll get out of it on such short notice. At the very least I’ll need someone to opt in for me.”

“I can do it,” she suggests, and he looks at her with a disbelieving frown.

“I can’t ask you to do that,” he mumbles.

The Goddess asks him, “If you didn’t have the match, what would you want to do right now?”

Shulk answers “Take a nap,” immediately, then after a pause admits, “but every time I think about this stuff I have nightmares.”

Palutena thinks for a moment and responds, “I think I have just the solution for you.” With a wave of her hands and a swirl of her magic, the Goddess summons up a soft comforter blanket, patterned with little shimmering stars and slowly swirling galaxies. His eyes light up a bit as he watches the colors and shapes drift across the fabric; normally she would introduce something like this with a bit more fanfare, but those sort of antics are more Pit’s style of humor and she’s not sure if Shulk would respond the same. “This blanket is woven from starlight and enchanted by the goddess of the mind,” she explains, and Shulk takes it gingerly. “As long as you sleep with it, you won’t have a single nightmare.”

The boy examines it curiously, running his fingers over the fabric. She can’t help but notice the dark circles under his eyes, standing out against his pale skin. Finally he asks, “How did you make a blanket out of starlight?”

“Goddess of Light,” she points out, with a cheeky little smile. “You’d be amazed at the things you can do when you bend light in  _ just _ the right way.”

He looks like he wants to ask another question, but instead merely mumbles, “Thank you for everything,” as he leans away from her to drape it over his shoulders. He looks like he’s going to settle in right here, and she frowns a little.

“Are you going to take a nap on the floor?”

Shulk blinks. “Yes?”

The Goddess resists the urge to shake her head. “Come on, your bed should be more comfortable,” she suggests, trying to gently coax him up. He makes a little grunt in complaint, but rises and lets her guide him to his bed, where he readily sinks down into the bedsheets with a huge sigh. “Will you be okay now?” she asks as he settles in.

He replies, “I’ll be okay now.” His voice is muffled as he buries his face in the soft starry blanket. “I’ll be okay,” he says again. “I… I wanna talk more, about better things. But now I wanna nap.”

“Then nap,” she says. “We can talk as much as you want after you’re rested.”

Shulk nods, closing his eyes and sighing deeply. Time to take her leave, then.

Lady Palutena quietly slips out of his room and closes the door, heading away to inform Master Hand of the slight change in the participants of the next match today. She wants to think more on everything she learned today, about Shulk and what he’s been through, but she supposes that will have to wait once her new match is done.

Mortals are so very fragile, the Goddess thinks. They can crack and shatter like glass. But, unlike glass, mortals do the most remarkable thing: over time, they heal.


End file.
